


If It Were Me: Case of Cid

by ZScalantian



Series: If It Were Me [2]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Gen, Someone other than Cloud goes back in time, Swearing, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-06-12
Packaged: 2018-03-15 20:51:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3461573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZScalantian/pseuds/ZScalantian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Note to self:  never fucking trust any damn gold materia that's wedged in a place it's got no fucking right to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. part 1

 

**Day one**

     Note to self: never fucking trust any damn gold materia that's wedged in a place it's got no fucking right to be. That was Cid's first thought when he woke up on the dusty ground next to what was, to judge by the smell, someone's week old trashbags. Fuck, what the hell had happened? He looked around as he sat up, the world spinning around him for a moment. Once everything stopped moving, the first thing he noticed, besides the smelly trash bags and poorly-painted house he was laying next to, was that it was twilight. Evening gloom was descending on the area. Damn. He'd been out for a few hours then. His joints protested as he stood up, dirt and grit sticking to him. Damnit, he hated getting old. Scratching the back of his head, he cursed the materia again. If the stupid thing was some variant on teleport, it could have sent him to a hot spring or somewhere, instead of out with the trash. Fucking hilarious that that was where the shitty thing would put him. At least he was still in Rocket Town. This looked like Dan's house. Might as well get on home, he figured. He'd pick up a pair of pliers, then go pry the damn thing loose. Absorbed in vengeful thoughts about getting the stupid thing out from under the Sheara's control board, it took him a moment to notice the dramatic difference in Rocket Town's skyline. When he did see it, he stopped dead. He blinked and pinched himself. No luck. It was still there. Standing tall, gleaming in the golden light of the sunset. The rocket.

     Walking out from behind the fence, he dazedly approached the item that had been the symbol of his dreams. Before he could even get close enough to touch its smooth, cool sides, he was stopped by a young man in a Shinra trooper uniform.

     "Sorry, sir, but this area is off limits to civilians. If you want a picture of the rocket, that's fine, but you must be behind that line." He pointed to a red line chalked onto the ground. Cid hadn't even noticed it.

    It was a testament to how out of it he was that he complied to the young man's instructions without protest. He let himself gaze a while longer before a familiar voice caught his attention. Looking around, he found its source and was once again blindsided by what he saw. There, walking with a group of young men, was unmistakably his twenty-something self. The men were laughing, and a few of them were swaying, beer bottles in their hands. He stood there, a lost and grizzled old man, as his youth walked past talking about dreams, the future, and how he would, in a few days, be the first man in space.

    He stood there stunned. He took in every thing around him - the houses, the people, the smells, Shinra. They were all here, all the ghosts of his past.

    "Fuck that materia...." He shook himself. "Damn it, Cid, this ain't you. Stop gaping like some dorky faced numbskull idiot," he berated. So either you're in the past or having the most Gaia-damned vivid dream you've ever had. Get over it and fucking do something.

     Best find out what day it was. Decision made, he headed for the local inn and tavern. He kept a wary eye out on his surroundings. If the launch was in a few days, than there were good odds AVALANCHE was crawling around somewhere. Entering the brightly lit establishment, he made his way over to the counter and hailed the inn keeper/barman over.

    "Get me a cup of the fucking darkest, most bitter tea you have here," he told the man.

     Leaning casually against the counter, he looked round. He remembered some of the folks in the bar, some he didn't. Glaring surreptitiously at the strangers, he wondered who might be part of AVALANCHE. About all he could remember about the terrorists whose attack had led to the aborted launch was that one wore a bandana.

     The innkeeper came back with the tea, steaming and too hot to drink. "Thanks," Cid said, taking the cup with satisfaction. "So, how many more days till the launch?"

    "Just ten more. You gonna stay till then? You won't want to miss history being made."

     So he had ten days, huh? So it was the second of April... or the night of the first? AVALANCHE hadn't shown up until the eleventh. Cid had the nagging feeling that he wasn't remembering something. Something else horrible was happening right fucking now. Damn, what was it? He tried to think back... Or, fuck, was he thinking forward? If this was time travel, it was fucking confusing. He dragged himself back on task, and tried to recall some of the conversations he'd had with his friends. Corel's reactor would blow next month. He had better warn Barret somehow. But that still wasn't it.

    Cid gulped some just-barely-cool-enough tea. The relevant discussions had been too goddam long ago. Fuck Shinra. He and his had too many scars from them. Scars... Experiments, he realized with furious horror. Red was still free, for now, if he remembered right. Poor critter had been captured late in the year. But Nibelheim had already burned and Spike was serving his time as a lab rat. It was difficult to resist the mental urge to throw the mug against the wall and storm out, cursing Hojo all the way, but somehow he resisted.

    "Sir... SIR!" The barkeep was leaning across the counter, reaching to tap his shoulder.

     Startled, Cid swore and jerked back. "Shit, you don't need to fucking yell in my ear! I'm not that old."

    "Sorry, sir, but you weren't answering. Do you want a room?"

     Zoned out, huh? Well, trying to keep himself calm when his natural instinct when angered was to swear a blue streak and hit something demanded a lot of concentration. He sipped his tea before answering the man behind the counter. "Nah. I'll be back in a few days with a friend.”

     The innkeeper paused, than smiled. “You sure? If you’re planning on coming back, you probably want to reserve a room now. With the launch coming up, rooms for the next week and a half are going quick.”

     Cid considered. He didn’t really want to leave tracks, but he also didn’t want to come back with a fugitive, possibly wounded or sick comrade and have nowhere to stay. “Sure,” he answered. “One room, two beds, for, er… four days from now, for five nights. I wouldn't want to miss this launch for the world…” A sudden, flickering idea came to him, and he grinned slowly. “You know what, I think I might know someone else who wouldn't want to miss this." Cid's bloodthirsty smile made the innkeeper give him an odd look and as soon as he’d taken payment for the room, he beat a hasty retreat to his other customers. Oh yes, Cid knew. There was one person who wouldn't want to miss this.

     Drinking the last of his tea, Cid started to mull over how he was going to pull this off. It would need to be done quickly, with no observation. He'd need some better weapons and supplies if he didn't want to be caught. Going over to a table he sat down and started to make a mental check list of what he had and what he'd need. He pushed up his sleeve, examining the Edincoat bracelet around his wrist thoughtfully. After Deepground, he and the others had all started to carry a handful of materia with them everywhere, just in case. He was equipped with a Restore, Lightning, Fire, Ice, Mystify, Earth and Haste. What he really wanted was for this plan was Sleep, linked with All, but the Edincoat didn't have any linked materia slots. He wasn't about to consider swapping his prize out, either. It reminded him of a very good day. He chuckled with dark amusement at the memory of that lardass Palmer getting run over by some random truck. The problem at hand, though, was that he still needed a decent weapon, medical supplies, food, and transportation. Maybe some dream powder and loco weed too.

     The sun had fully set while he was inside, and a cool breeze ruffled his graying hair as he stepped outside. Lighting up a cigarette, he wondered which bits of gear he could get at this time of day. The shops he was interested in would be closed or closing up for the night. He already had an idea about transport, but he'd have to pick it up later. He strolled into the residential area. He soon came to old Rory's house. The man would be in his sixties right now, about a decade older than Cid's own age. Cid was almost as old as a man he'd always seen as old and washed up. That was a rough thought. Still, Rory was the easiest option for a great weapon. Vanity would have to take a hike. Quickly going up to the door, he knocked roughly. Soon an elderly lady came to the door and peered up at him through a pair of thick spectacles. If this was going to work, he was gonna need to do it right.

   "Evenin', Ma'am. Sorry to to trouble ya, but I need to talk to Rory," he stated.

    She nodded, though her expression remained slightly wary, and invited him in, leading him into a sitting room where Rory was seated. More importantly, at least by Cid's measure, there was a familiar spear on display above the fireplace. The old man looked up, curiosity written on his weathered face.

    "Can I help you with something?" the man asked.

    Tacking a seat across from him, Cid began to spin his story.

    "Well, long story short, I lost my spear not too long ago. Damn good weapon, but it got stuck in a monster's spine and snapped. I need a replacement, quick. A friend of mine's in deep shit and I intend to help him out. Passing through town, I heard you used to be a spearman yourself, and I was wondering if you had any I could use." It took all he had not to look at the fireplace.

    "Well, that's pretty noble of yah. But I'm afraid, I ain't got any spears left. Well, besides my pride and joy up there." Rory nodded towards Venus Gospel, its golden blade glimmering enticingly. Cid bit back a regretful sigh. That was his pride and joy, too. Damn, he wanted his spear back.

    "What sort of trouble has your friend gotten into?"

     What would get him enough sympathy for Rory to hand over the spear? Cid considered options. Reckoning there wasn't much more awful than the truth, he said "Kid got kidnapped after he watched his home burned and his family murdered."

    Rory's eyes bugged out. "That bad?! And you're going after him unarmed?"

   "Not completely." Cid held up his Edincoat, the cuff of his rough coat slipping down from the bangle. "But I'd feel better about if I had something reliable and solid in my hands."

    "Yeah. I hear ya." Rory nodded sympathetically. "How old's the kid?"

     Lightning fast, Cid did the mental math. "'Bout seventeen now."

     The old man grimaced. "You related?"

    "Nah. Feels like it sometimes though. Kid's got a guilt complex as deep as the norther crater and a stubborn streak as wide as the ocean. He needs somebody ta keep an eye on him."

    "Sounds like you're a good man- Er, what's your name?"

     Without thinking, he answered "Cid" and caught himself just in time. "Just call me Cid." If Rory pressed for a last name, he'd just use his ma's maiden name.

     The old man didn't ask though, and didn't seem suspicious. "Well, Cid, as long as you don't stick her someplace where she'll break, you can take Venus Gospel. Oh, and if ya come back this way, I'd like to meet this young man."

     Cid gave the old man the most genuine smile he could. "I'll bring him by if I can."

     The conversation drifted to the merits of the spear, with Cid welcome to spend the night before going on his rescue mission.

**Day Two**

      Cid sighed, setting the transport chopper down delicately. He hated flying helicopters. Damn noisy things were too finicky for his taste. He'd rather have brought the Tiny Bronco. Flying that plane was a damn joy. Swift, responsive, its only flaw was an infrequent habit of stalling out midair. Like that time he'd been flying over the Nibel mountain range and ended up having to ski down a snow covered slope, or that time over the Corel desert. The engines had still been working, but for some reason he couldn't get any lift, so he'd used it as a hover craft to skim over the sand. He'd even used it as a boat a couple times. Point was, it had character and could get through anything you asked it to, even if it wasn't exactly how you wanted.

     He'd decided against taking it for three reasons. One, he was certain his younger self would probably hunt him down and try to kill him for stealing his baby. Two, Broncos, because of their rarity, were easily recognized. Three, Nibelheim didn't have an airstrip, meaning only a chopper could land in its mountainous terrain. At least he could not only get in and out fast, but it lessened the odds of anybody seeing him.

     After a quick shopping trip this morning, he'd snuck onto the Shinra airfield and liberated one of the transport choppers. After hot-wiring it, he found its tracker and ripped the darn thing out. He wasn't going to give those fuckers a chance to figure out where he was going. It only took him two hours of flight to reach the secluded town of Nibelheim. Now that he was here, he threw some camouflage netting over the vehicle. Once he was satisfied that anyone flying over would have a hard time spotting it, he clambered into the hold.

     Now, he didn't plan to do anything stupid like charging in only to get himself captured. He wasn't suicidal or fucking moronic enough to go in without a good solid plan. Not to mention the fact that he'd never been here before. He was just going off what he'd heard from the others. So, first things first, recon. Rummaging around in the compartments under the seats he was finally rewarded with what he was looking for. There was a reason he'd picked a transport - it was full of extra supplies and spare uniforms. He pulled on one that fit well, and figured he looked pretty convincing. Hell, if Red could pull off being a sailor, and damn, he regretted not seeing that, than he could damn sure do the same as a trooper. All he'd need to remember was to say "Yes, sir" instead of "Fuck you, shitbag". He left Venus Gospel in the chopper, taking a trooper's standard-issue rifle and baton instead. He'd want the spear tomorrow, but for now it was better if he didn't stand out.

     Securing his helmet, he set out on the short hike into town. He slipped behind one of the houses and watched the inhabitants of the recreated town. It looked like most of them were Shinra troopers, with a few scattered civilians. Hang on, he remembered. They weren't civilians, they were actors replacing the real Nibelheim locals who had died. Shinra was covering its bloated ass, keeping up a semblance of normality so that the few people who came through wouldn't find out what had happened. Bloodsucking parasite sons of whores.

     Cid took a deep breath to calm himself down. Unfortunately, that breath was laced with the cold smell of old ash and fresh pine from the new buildings around him. He held a breath instead, cursing Shinra 10 times, before walking out with a confident stride from behind the building. He marched right through and out of that damn town, towards where he remembered the others saying the mansion was. As he walked through the open, rusting gates he passed a pair of scientists heading into town. They were chuckling, and it took a lot of self control not to shout at or shoot them. Those fuckers were responsible for how messed up Spike was. He walked stiffly to the door, a part of him shouting that this was a stupid plan and that he should just get the hell out of there.

     Cid snorted. Too late to back out now. He opened the creaking door and saluted the troopers stationed at the bottom of the sweeping stairs. Better safe than sorry. He made his way upstairs, while looking surreptitiously around the bottom floor. With those two troopers there, he couldn't really go exploring. He hurriedly checked the upper level rooms. While they all looked like people were livin' in 'em, none of 'em were currently occupied. He found the bedroom with the secret staircase, but it wasn't being kept hidden right now. The damn thing was open, thank Shiva, so he made his way down the creaking wooden staircase. The manor's lighting hadn't been too good, but at least it had all those windows. The basement, with its flickering, inconstant lighting, was downright miserable.

     Muttering curses like a mantra, Cid walked along the gloomy corridor until a scream made him jump. He dashed forward a few steps before remembering himself. Taking a deep breath, a mistake in this moldy place, he squared his shoulders and continued calmly towards the sound. He passed another two guards. Again, he saluted. He got an answering salute back from one. The other stood with his fists clenched at his sides. As Cid approached them carefully, he saw the man was pale and sweating. He passed between them and into the room. It turned out to be a library, with another room just beyond. Cid clenched his own hands into fists, and walked forward, looking through the door. Someone was whimpering, pleading raggedly. Several scientists, men and women in white lab coats, including that shitbag Hojo, were clustered around a metal operating table. Two looked up as he entered, but looked back down again quickly. The table was facing away from the door, so mercifully Cid didn't have to look too closely at what they were doing. He risked it long enough to see that the poor s.o.b on the table was Cloud. His pale skin blended with the sickly greens and whites of the room, but his hair stood out as much as ever. He looked away again, embarrassed and enraged on the kid's behalf. The pitiful noises, the blood on the scientists' gloved hands, it was all more than enough. Veins pulsed in Cid's temple and neck. He resisted the idea of just shooting all the bastards only with a serious effort.

     Those fucking bastards. How could they do this? How could those guards just stand there and let this happen? The scum suckers could have at least put the kid under. On the other hand, hadn’t he heard something back in Wutai about a SOLDIER’s regenerative ability going down when sufficiently drugged? Their whole system got slower or some shit. So keeping him awake was better than being out, but couldn't the bastards give him some fucking morphine or something? Taking a shaky breath, he began looking around the room. You're on recon only today, he reminded himself. Besides the nightmarish operating table, the other dominant feature of the room was the pair of mako tanks. One was empty, but the other was full of noxious green liquid, and another young man was floating in it. The guy looked pissed, hands clenched against the glass, teeth bared. Must be what's his name, the guy that got Cloud out. Cid sidled quietly over to the tank to get a better look at the controls. There were a lot of damn buttons. How the hell did you open the damn thing? He looked up the tank's occupant. The trapped SOLDIER was glaring at him for all he was worth. Cid just gave a small smirk and mouthed the word "hey". The guy scowled more deeply, but after a moment when Cid just kept smiling, all friendly-like, tilted his head curiously.

     With his back to the scientists, Cid pointed at the buttons, and shrugged very slightly. The guy's brows knit. He looked at the scientists and the guards in the hallway, before looking back down at Cid. His expression was very guarded now. Cid wondered whether the poor guy thought it was a trap. He was trying to figure out how to ask by sign language which button would open the damn tank when Cloud screamed again. It sounded as though it had been dragged out of the kid with iron hooks. Cid nearly blew his cover then, because he couldn't help unslinging his rifle. The SOLDIER had jerked up at the noise, snarling again, but he looked down again in time to see Cid repositioning the gun. Cid grinned as reassuringly as he could manage, which wasn't very, and gave a tiny nod. He knew he had to get out of there, or he'd blow his cover for sure. He walked calmly out of the room, saluting the guards again as he passed. When he was a long way down the dark hallway, he let out a low string of curses vile enough to make even the worst sinner blush.

     Damn, he was going to need help because next time he ran across those bitch-asses he was going to kill them. So help him Minerva, he was going to kill them. He spent the rest of the day scooping the place out, but staying as far away from the lab as possible. By the end he'd figured the place was perfect for getting into, because no one thought anyone would be brave and/or dumb enough to try, but damn near impossible to get out of. Tomorrow, he'd have to go recruiting.

**Day Three**

    "Stop," the guard ordered. "What's in the box?"

    "No idea. The professor sent for it."

    "Professor Hojo?"

    "Yes, sir."

     The guard looked back over his shoulder at the stairs, before nodding and giving Cid what was probably supposed to be a sympathetic squeeze to his shoulder.

    "Good luck."

    "Thanks." I'm gonna need it more'n you know, he thought to himself.

     Maneuvering the long box down the narrow basement stairs proved difficult. It would be a lot easier if he could just ditch the box, but spears weren't a typical Shinra weapon, and a trooper carrying one would attract the wrong kind of attention. At least claiming that the box was for the fucking deranged half-baked professor meant no one asked too many questions. It wasn't even a lie. Venus Gospel was in the box, and it was gonna be in the professor's hands (and heart, and possibly throat) before the end of the week. Unfortunately, Cid couldn't just walk up to the fucking rat and stick him. Not if he wanted to get the rescuees and himself out successfully. That was where the next part of the plan came into play.

     Some random fuck in a lab coat was standing in the hallway, looking through a sheaf of notes. Cid cleared his throat. "Excuse me, I was told to put this in the storeroom at the end of the hall, but the damn door's locked. Know where I can find the key?"

    "That room's not in use. Just put it in the regular storeroom," came the man's condescending voice.

    "I was told to put it in that one."

     The lab coat pinched his nose. "What idiot told you that?"

    "The professor," Cid drawled, getting a kick out of how the man paled. "Look, do you know where the key is?" he urged. The man just nodded. "Then go get it, and I won't tell the professor what you called him."

     The spooked man quickly scurried off, leaving behind a very satisfied Cid. It was poetic justice. Dropping the creepy bastard's name was proving very effective at sabotaging the shitbag. When the lab coat came back, he handed Cid an old, rusty key before making himself scarce. Chuckling to himself, Cid ambled up to Vincent's door, unlocked it, and stepped inside. He closed the door behind him, too; he didn't need anyone else hearing the upcoming conversation. With the door shut, the only light was the fluorescent lighting seeping through the cracks around the door. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the dimness. Eventually, he could make out dim shapes in the gloom. Some wooden boxes and barrels, and four coffins, one of which contained the sleeping Vincent. Cid had heard about it, but this was ridiculous. Seriously, the guy was like a fucking pantomime vampire in here. He leaned the box against the wall and started pulling the lids off coffins. He found the one that housed the familiar red-cloaked gunman on his second try.

    "Fuck, Vincent, you plan to sleep your whole life? Get your ass out of that damn coffin and help me get some kids out of here.... Oh yeah, and we'll kill that fucking rat Hojo that calls himself a professor while we're at it. That guy's a moron if he thinks his ass is safe from fucking karma."

     Vincent didn't even open his eyes.

    "Go away."

    "Like hell I'm gonna. Damn it, Vincent, if I have to fucking drag you out of there, so help me, I will," he threatened, but got no response. "Alright. Be that way."

      Taking a few steps back, Cid pulled Edincoat out of his pocket. He secured it around his wrist and started to warm up his fire materia.

    "Last warning, Vinny. Get up, or I'm burning your fucking box."

      That got a response. Vincent shot out of the coffin, golden claw aimed at his chest. Dodging to the side, Cid carried on unperturbed.

    "Great. Now that you're up, this place has to have more than one entrance, 'cuz I don't see how they could have gotten all this fucking junk down here without everyone in town knowing. Or down that worm-eaten death trap those shitasses call stairs. I mean, even before fucking Sephiroth burned the place down this lab was here, so how the fuck did they get it all in?" Cid asked the ex-Turk. But the man seemed to be focusing on the wrong part of Cid’s question.

    "Sephiroth... burned?"

      Damn. At least he was paying attention now. "Long story. I'll explain later, when a friend of mine ain't getting tortured in a fucking room down that fucking hall." He jerked his thumb to indicate the hall behind him.

    "Hojo... has your friend. Is that why you're betraying Shinra?"

    "The fuck I am! I don’t work for those fuckers!” The faintest expression of disbelief flickered over Vincent’s face. Cid belatedly remembered what he was wearing. “Oh hell, the uniform." He pulled off the helmet, ran a hand through his greying blonde hair, and continued. "Nah, I haven't worked for them slave-makers for years; used to, as a pilot, but I been disillusioned by some crap since." He hefted the helmet. "I'm just borrowing the damn thing to get in an' out of this shithole. Can't figure out how to get my friend out though. That's where you come in. See?"

    "You mentioned 'some kids'. One is your friend. Who are the others?"

    "Just one other. A friend of my friend. They're in deep shit and need help fast. Any ideas?"

    "Why should I help you?" Vincent looked away, fastening his eyes on a bone propped against a wall. "What Shinra does is none of my business."

    "Because, somewhere in that damn dark soul of yours, you got a fucking heart. And 'cuz I know where to find that lady friend of yours."

     Vincent lunged again, moving more quickly than before, wrapping his golden claws around Cid's neck. Cid berated the man. "Shit, Vincent, I plan to tell ya as soon as Cloud's out of here. I can't fucking well talk if I'm dead, now can I. So get the shit off and fucking help."

     There was an uncomfortable minute or two before the gunman withdrew the razor sharp claws. "There is a hidden elevator leading to a tunnel which connects to the reactor. The difficult part will be to get them out from under that man's nose. Then you must get them off the mountain, which, depending on their condition, may prove difficult.”

    "Well, I can't vouch for their condition, but we'll be taking a helicopter off this godsforsaken hunk of rocks. I got one stashed on the east side of town. I could move it up closer to the reactor."

     Vincent nodded. "For now, it will take me a few days to learn the rounds of the guards and the scientists' routines."

    "Damn. I don't have a few days." Vincent lifted an eyebrow inquiringly. Cid wasn't much good at reading the man's expressions, but that one was designed to be understood. "Got another person to save, with a deadline that's fast approaching. Tell ya what. We won't worry about fucking finesse. I'll head out, get the chopper to the reactor, and head back by that tunnel. I'll meet up with you in there, then use these to stir up a distraction." He held up his bracer to show off his materia. "We'll wreak some holy havoc, get the kids, then all of us'll get the hell out of here."

     Leaning forward slightly, Vincent studied Edincoat and the materia slotted into it. "Restore, Lightning, Fire, Ice, Mystify, Earth and Haste. All mastered," he mused. "One could certainly generate quite a large amount of damage with those. However, your plan is still unwise."

     Cid grinned. "Yeah, maybe. Probably. But them fucks won't be expecting it and all we have to do to get away is collapse the tunnel after us. If those shit-heads want to follow us, they'll have to hike up the damn mountain and by then we'll be long gone."

   "Is there a tracker in your helicopter?" Vincent inquired.

    "Used to be," Cid grinned.

    "...I see. What type of helicopter?"

    "Transport. ...Don't give me that look. I know the damn things are fucking loud, but I need something that size for another job."

    "You seem to be quite busy."

    "Damn right I am. The whole damn planet is going to hell in a fucking hand-basket and I know a couple things that will save it. Hell, I ain't setting out to be some damn hero, but I'd like a place to live out my retirement peaceably and that's not gonna happen with how fucked up things are right now."

    "I am only helping you with getting your friend out of this lab. Nothing else."

   "Sure." He shrugged. "But ya know, the other job's up at the reactor. You helping out would make things go a lot faster."

     Red eyes flashed in warning. "And what job is that?" the gunman growled.

   "Just picking up some blue alien bitch and then blasting her off the damn planet and back to where ever the hell she came from."

   "Jenova?"

   "No, Minerva," Cid deadpanned. "Damn right, Jenova! Ya know of anything else that fits the fucking description?" he said.

     Silence. Apparently, Vincent didn't feel like responding to the jab.

   "Right, I gotta get going.” Cid started to head for the door but stopped, turning back to the gunman who currently had no gun. “Here, picked this up for you. Ain’t no Cerberus, but it’ll do.” He handed over a Quicksilver pistol to Vincent before saying “I’ll meet ya tomorrow evening 'round seven or so."

     Vincent gave a nod. Good enough, Cid supposed. Slipping out of the room, he pocketed the old key. No reason to give it back. If that lab coat caught hell over losing it, well, it wasn't Cid's problem.

**Day Four**

    "SOLDIER 1st Class Zack Fair and Corporal Cloud Strife were returned to their mako tanks an hour ago with a minimal guard. However, the scientists remain in the room, going over test results."

     Cid jumped, whipping around and raising his standard issue baton at the talking shadow. "Shit, Vincent, you could give a guy a heart attack."

     Unperturbed, the gunman stepped out of the gloom. They were currently standing in the connecting tunnel that they planned to use as an escape route.

   "And ya could have warned me about all the damn sahagins crawling around," Cid complained, puffing on the fourth cigarette he'd lit since entering the godforsaken tunnel. "Damn inbreedings of drunk lizards and turtles are a fucking nuisance."

    The whole place smelled more like a fucking sewer used by dragons with diarrhea than some secret supply route. He was still dressed in the stolen trooper uniform and really couldn't wait to pick up Venus Gospel. He'd run out of bullets somewhere back there and was relegated to close combat using the baton. Thing did a pretty good job at the task; it was just damn fucking annoying when he was used to the reach on a spear. He should have brought his baby with him instead of leaving it with Vincent.

     As if reading his thoughts, the gunman reached under his cloak and pulled out the very spear Cid had been sighing for.

   "How the hell do you do that?" Cid complained. He'd seen the man pull unexpected things out from under that ridiculous tattered cloak before, but Venus Gospel? The damn thing was longer than Vincent was tall!

     Vincent didn't give him an answer, only replying, "I thought you might want it."

    "Damn right I do." He took the proffered weapon. It felt good in his hands. Damn, he'd missed his sweet baby. "Right, ready to cause some mayhem?" His grin stretched from ear to ear. This was going to be good.

 

**Day number whatever in hell**

     Zack had stopped counting how long they'd been in here. All the time he spent drugged, unconscious, or in a mako tank made it real hard to count days. If you had asked him how many days ago that trooper who had grinned at him and almost shot the scientists had been here, all he could have told you was that it had been recently. Really, that had been the only thing interesting thing to happen for a while now. Most of the other stuff, he tried to not to think about. Currently, he was keeping himself occupied by trying to figure out why the guy had smiled. It had been a kinda friendly and reassuring smile, but with an edge, like the guy was planing something.

     Damn, hope could be a horrible thing sometimes. Chances were the guy was having a good day and felt like sharing. Really, who the hell here would help them out?

     Then again, the guy had nearly shot Hojo. Good thing the scientist hadn't seen that. Argh! Seriously, who was that trooper, and why did he smile? It was driving Zack nuts! It was during these thoughts that the shaking started. At first it was just a small tremor, just enough to get people's attention. The next hit harder, causing items to dance across counters and slide around on shelves. One of the scientists ducked under an operating table, but most were still standing, though some were supporting themselves on counters or each others' shoulders. Hojo staggered to the door, yelling at the guards outside. The next tremor was much stronger. It knocked people to the ground and caused small rocks to fall from the celling. Glass beakers slipped off counters, smashing on the floor.

     Nibelheim wasn't known for earthquakes. He glanced at the next tank over, looking for a reaction from the local expert, but Cloud was still out of it from the day's tests. Fucking bastards, he thought viciously. He wished the whole place would come down and crush them. Another tremor rocked the room. More rocks fell, and one of the shelves fell over. He might just get his wish. Of course, he realized ruefully, that would kinda suck too. If the whole place came down, then he and Cloud would either be stuck down here, or be squished as flat as the rest. He didn’t want to die in this mako tank.

     The lab coats were huddling under the two tables now. Another tremor rocked the room. Another flask, filled with some milky liquid, fell to the floor. It shattered, and its contents flowed out to mix with the fluids already on the floor. A pale vapor began to rise from the spill. One of the scientists noticed it, and grabbed the arm of the woman next to him. She looked, shouted a warning, and the whole lot of them boiled out from under the table like ants with a stick poked into their anthill. Hojo was the first out, and the rest of the scientists followed in a hurry. There were a few brief moments of stillness, then the room shook again. This time, it wasn't an earthquake, but an explosion. Fire ripped in through the open doorway. The wooden cabinets and bookcases began to burn. Some of the stuff that had fallen must have been flammable, too, because there were fire spouts in various colors springing from the floor.

     Great, now the place was on fire. This lab just got more and more fun. Eyeing the cabinet closest to the tanks, flames whooshing up its sides, he began to wonder how hot mako had to get before it boiled. Maybe, he thought without much hope, the heat would weaken the tank's thick glass before the liquid inside boiled he and Cloud alive. He punched the curved wall experimentally, but got no joy. He was startled a minute later when the flames around the door were parted by a flurry of ice. The ice spread through the room, coating the floor, and crystalizing slickly on the burning shelves. A trooper stepped through the wrecked door. Oh great, they weren't to be forgotten and left to boil in mako after all. Unusually, the trooper was alone, and not carrying any standard weaponry, but had an impressive custom spear on his back. The man came running over to the tank control panel, just like that other unusual trooper had. Was this the same guy? Between the concealing helmet and the scarf pulled over his face against the smoke, Zack couldn't tell. And, more pressingly, was he here to get them out?

    "Damn it! How the hell does this fucking thing work?" The trooper pounded the top of the console in frustration.

      Yep, he was. The words were distorted by the thick glass and the mako, but Zack could still make them out. He rapped on the glass to get the guy's attention, and motioned towards the buttons that would drain and open the tank. When the man turned away, Zack flexed his fingers and grinned. Seemed like Hojo didn’t want to lose his test subjects after all. Of course he was a coward and had sent in this poor trooper to get them out instead of coming himself, so Zack wouldn’t have the satisfaction of revenge. That was okay, though. Vengeance was a poor second to escape.

     The stranger hit the wrong button at first, picking the one that pumped more mako in. The console beeped warningly to indicate the tank was already full. The man looked at Zack for clarification, and the SOLDIER gestured "to the left". The stranger hit the correct one this time. The mako went down, and the guy hit the buttons for the two tank's doors before the liquid was even halfway drained. Zack burst out of his as soon as he heard the hiss of the glass unsealing. His enthusiasm worked against him though. Clumsy with long confinement and mako exposure, he tripped over the metal rim and smacked his skull against the toppled shelf. He jerked himself upright, no small feat on the slick ice, and turned, prepared to punch the trooper’s lights out. But the stranger was standing in front of the other tank, and caught Cloud as the kid fell out of the tube.

   "Come on! We need to get the fuck out of here," the man shouted.

     Zack hesitated, but answered “Right." The stranger was making no effort at subduing them, and now that Zack heard him without a wash of viscous green in the way, he realized the guy was way older than usual for a trooper. Whatever was going on here was weird, but Zack’s gut instinct was that this guy wasn’t here on Hojo’s orders. He decided he wasn't going to ask any questions until they were out of the danger zone. First, he needed to get his friend back. "I'll take him."

     Zack reached out to grab Cloud, and for a second the stranger's grip tightened on the blond before he let Zack have him.

    "Yeah, probably better you than me. I don't need any of that damn mako rubbin' off on me. Now c'mon." The strange trooper turned away. The fire was still burning in the hallway, and the flames had reclaimed the area around the door. The man aimed another ice spell at it, and charged off.

     Zack hefted his friend into a more secure position and followed after the man. There were screams coming from the far end of the hall. Nothing was visible through the smoke and fire. Their rescuer turned away from the noise, and went further down the corridor, to where there were fewer flames. Judging by the scorch marks and ice along the walls, Zack figured the fire had started down here. The lights that were suspended on the walls were out. The trooper in front of them was counting under his breath as they passed each light. At "seventeen" he stopped. He touched something high up on the wall, hidden beneath the wire from which the lights hung. With a quiet grinding noise, the stone wall split, revealing an elevator. They rode down in tense silence. After the box came to a stop and the rust covered doors opened, they stepped out into a dark tunnel that smelled strongly of sewage and mold. Zack wrinkled his nose in disgust at the pungent odor.

    "Here, dunk yourself with this." The man passed over a large bottle of water that had been hidden inside the passage. Not needing further explanation, Zack took a few sips to wash the smoke from his throat, spitting, then did as he was told, rinsing as much of the mako and soot off his skin as he could manage. He repeated the process with another bottle on Cloud, awkwardly aware of the stranger watching them.

    "Right. Now get into these, and sorry if they don't damn well fit; it's all I could fucking find."

      Zack took the proffered trooper uniforms, and looked at the labels. He took the bigger one for himself, but seams still popped as he pulled it on. He couldn't get his arms through the sleeves at all, and settled for ripping the damn things off entirely. The rough fabric clung to his wet skin in a way that was almost certainly gonna chafe. He wished mournfully for a SOLDIER uniform, but beggars couldn't be choosers. He started putting on the various accessories - pauldrons, belt and suspenders, knee guards - but the stranger was hovering impatiently over Cloud with the other uniform. Zack left the last bits of his costume on the floor and wordlessly took Cloud's gear from the other man. He still hadn't seen the guy’s face. He turned away and knelt, pulling Cloud's limp limbs through sleeves and trouser legs. He could hear the stranger behind him walking away a few steps to give them at least an illusion of privacy. He finished up Cloud's disguise and returned to his own. The too-small boots were going to be his death if they had to walk any long distance. While Zack buckled the ankle straps, their rescuer started talking.

    "Now that you're both dressed, we wait here for Vincent, then we'll have you boys out of here." The man had just finished speaking when a tall man with black hair, red eyes and wearing a red cape practically melted out of a nearby shadow. Both Zack and the trooper jumped. Zack's senses must have gotten duller than he'd thought. How the hell had he not noticed the guy standing so close?

   "These are yours." The newcomer held out a very familiar looking blade.

    "Buster sword... and my materia?! How...? Thanks, man." Don't look at a gift chocobo's beak, he reminded himself. "Right. Where to now?"

     If Zack had been asked an hour ago if he thought they would be getting out today, he would have said no. If he'd been asked if he thought that a Shinra trooper would get them out, he'd have said it would be a nice dream. If he'd been asked if he thought he'd be flying out on a stolen Shinra helicopter with Jenova's tank strapped underneath it while sitting next to a Shinra trooper and an ex-Turk as the Nibelheim reactor burned behind them, he would have said to stop being crazy. Then again, crazy things always seemed to be happening to him.


	2. part 2

**Day Five**  
  
    Getting up before the crack of dawn after sleeping on a flimsy bed roll on the rock hard earth, with a root jabbing him in the back, did nothing to improve Cid's opinion that he was getting too old for this kinda thing.  Cursing a blue streak, he set about making a pot of tea for the rag tag group.  Between getting the young soldiers out, killing Hojo, grabbing that alien bitch, and destroying the lab, yesterday had been productive.  It had been satisfying too; no one was going to be using that hellhole excuse for a lab again.    
  
    But all good things came with their fair share of problems.  The chopper would soon be out of gas.  Carrying Jenova's heavy tank had done a number on its fuel supply.  Well, it wasn't like he'd have been able to fly it into Rocket Town again anyway.  Between its original theft from there, and its indiscreet departure from Nibelheim, it was a little too recognizable.  Nah, what he needed was an old, closed-top truck.  He might be able to find one on a nearby farm.  It'd have to be borrowed or stolen.  He couldn't buy one, not with the little gil he had left, that was for sure.  They needed to ditch the 'copter somewhere, too.  Maybe in the sea.  Make those damn Turks think they'd run out of fuel on the way to Wutai, or something.    
  
    Cid was brought out of his plotting by Zack sitting down across from him.  "Morning.  Thanks again for getting us out," the youth said with a bright smile.  
  
    It was amazing the guy could still grin like that after every thing he'd been through.  Goddess knew, Cloud and Vincent could barely manage a twitch of the lips, let alone a decent smile.   
  
    "No way in Hel's frozen hall was I gonna leave you guys there." Cid poured the ex-SOLDIER a cup of tea.  "Here."   
  
    Accepting the offered mug, Zack took a moment to relish the warm drink.  When he looked up again, his expression had grown serious.  "So, Cid, like I said, I really am grateful.  But why'd you help us, and how'd you even know where we were, or what was happening to us?"  
  
    "And like I told ya last night, I don't feel like being a damn parrot, always repeating myself.  You'll get your story when Spike wakes up."  
  
    "I too am waiting for answers," Vincent reminded him as he appeared and poured himself a cup of the morning's refreshment.  "Some of which do not need an audience."  Without actually changing his tone of voice, the ex-Turk still managed to slip plenty of menace into his statement.  
  
    "Well, I ain't getting inta story mode until I have to. So shut up, drink your damn tea, and be patient," Cid barked at his two companions.  Neither answered.  Zack frowned rather sullenly at his mug, and Cid thought that Vincent wore a much fainter version of the same expression.  
  
    Thankfully they didn't have to wait much longer, as it seemed that Cid's yelling had woken up their last companion.  After a hasty explanation from Zack, Cloud was brought up to speed on the current situation.  He peered curiously at Cid and Vincent.  The gunman, reading the blond's expression, quickly realized that the kid didn’t recognize Cid, spiting his earlier claims of friendship.  
  
    "Strife?" Vincent inquired.  "I take it that you have never meet this man before, despite his claim otherwise."  
  
    Cloud's brows furrowed in concentration, then he shook his head.  "No. Not that I remember anyway."  His eyes were a little unsure during that last part.  
  
    Damn, looked like the kid might already have some memory issues.  At least he didn't seem to be suffering too much physically from the mako poisoning.  Cid didn't have long to worry about it though, because there were three sets of glowing eyes fixed on him with varying degrees of suspicion and hostility.  Damn, this was going to be about as much fun as talking to a bunch of angry cactuars.  
  
    "Just because you don't know me, doesn't mean I don't know you," he muttered.  
  
    "You're not his dad, are you?"  Zack's question made everyone shift their attention to him.  Cloud looked scandalized.  Zack held his hands up in defense.  "What?  It's a reasonable question!  You told me yourself, you don't know who your dad was and that your mom didn't talk about him.  So, why couldn't he be your dad?  You guys look like you could be related."  
  
    "Why in hell does everybody keep fucking asking if I'm related to the damn kid?  I don't have to be a relative to wanna help,"  Cid grumped.   
  
    "Then, why?" Vincent cut in before anyone could continue down the road of family questioning.  
  
    Cid fished in his pocket for his lighter and a cigarette.  Lighting up, he took a long pull before slowly exhaling, collecting his thoughts.  
  
    "Simple.  I'm a time traveler."  Why beat around the bush when you could go right through it?  Especially when it produced such amazing reactions.  Cid wished he had a camera.  That was as gobsmacked as he was ever likely to see Vincent looking.  "Now, before you start thinking I've gone apeshit, sit back and let me tell you about the planet's past and the fucked up future it's headed for."   
  
    Surprisingly, he had very few interruptions, mostly questions to clarify or cross reference.  When he finally came to the end of his tale, arriving in the past, the sun was well up and nearing its zenith.  
  
    "So there you are.  It's your choice to believe me or not, but right now we really need a truck."  Cid got up and dusted himself off.  Now, where could he find a suitable vehicle?  
  
   **First day of freedom**  
  
    Zack and Cloud trailed after the supposed time traveler in his search for transport, leaving Vincent behind to guard Jenova.  Zack didn't fully believe Cid's story, but despite its craziness, there were too many truths in the tale for him to dismiss it.  Could everything in Cid's tale have actually happened... er, happen?  Zack got briefly derailed trying to straighten out the tenses, before deciding it was impossible, and giving up.  
  
    He glanced over.  Cloud, walking next to him, looked pale and shaken.   As far as Zack could tell, Cid hadn't sugarcoated anything when talking about what would happen.  Or had happened- damn it.  Anyway, the future apparently wasn't going to be kind or easy for the kid.  But, if Cid was telling the truth, then things had already changed.  Because here they were, both alive, both relatively sane, and Zack had no plans on dying any time soon.  Or, he thought with a snarl, on letting Aerith get killed.  
  
    He nudged Cloud’s shoulder.  “Hey, how you holding up?" he asked softly.  
  
    Cloud’s gaze slid to the ground.  “I… I don't know.  Do you believe what he said?”  
  
    Zack had to consider it.  He didn’t want to believe it, but…. “Yeah, I think I do,” he finally answered.  “Firstly, Cid believes what he’s saying.  For sure.  That might just mean that he’s crazy, though.  I guess, it’s just no matter how crazy it sounds, it makes sense... in a horrible sort of way."  
      
     "Really?  Do you really believe Sephiroth can come back?"  There was so much raw stress in Cloud's voice, Zack couldn't help sling an arm around the younger man's shoulders reassuringly.  Zack wasn't really sure about what Sephiroth could or couldn’t do, but while he was thinking of a suitable response, Cid cut in.  It startled Zack, who hadn’t realized the man could hear their conversation.  A further reminder of how rusty he’d gotten while in that tank.  
  
    "Once we blast that bitch into space, I doubt it.  It was her cells that enabled that fucker to come back, after all," the man groused.  
  
    “Into space?”  Zack stared at Cid, gobsmacked.  “How, exactly, do you plan to do that?”  Zack was pretty sure space travel hadn't been achieved yet.  Shinra had been working on launching a rocket, but that was still a few years off, wasn't it?  Zack hadn't ever paid a lot of attention to the Air & Space Department, but he could remember some of the guys in the barracks being pretty excited about it.  On the other hand, Cid had said in that crazy tale of his that he’d been an astronaut.  And he hadn’t just been broken out of a mad scientist’s laboratory, so he was probably a little more up-to-date on the space program’s progress than Zack was.  
  
    Cid grinned at him.  “No. 26 rocket goes up in a few days for a manned mission.  We’ll put the tank on board, and send the bitch back to wherever the fuck she came from.”  
  
    Zack was quiet for a minute, digesting the news.  Pretty soon, though, he spotted the flaw in the plan.  ”The launch is a Shinra thing, though, right?  There'll be guards all over, not to mention the press....  How are you planning to get the tank on the rocket without getting caught?" Zack questioned.  
  
    "AVALANCHE," Cid growled.  
  
    "Huh?”  Zack boggled, and even Cloud frowned.  “Look, I get that you worked for an AVALANCHE in the future, but this isn't the same group.  I’ve dealt with these guys before.  They are insane."  AVALANCHE was dangerous, and Zack had no intention of getting help from them.  
  
    "I know that, damn it!  I know it better'n you do.  It's their fucking fault the damn launch failed last time."  Cid devolved into a string of muttered curses.  Even used to the company of hardened soldiers, Zack had to admire some of the more creative phrases.  Eventually, Cid ran out of steam and resumed filling them in on the plan.  "Nah, we'll use those asswipes as a distraction to get into the launch area, then beat the fucking shit out of them.  After that, we'll talk to my younger self and get him to over look the extra cargo.  Probably should talk to Sheara as well, or she'll do some damn stupid thing again and make the whole damn thing flop."  Cid spat out his cigarette butt, crushed it under his heel, and lit up a new one.  
  
    "The launch failed last time?  I thought you said you made it up into space."  Now Zack was just confused.  
  
    "I did.  With my AVALANCHE.  This current bunch of bastards tried to sabotage the first time, and the motherfuckers managed it too."  
  
    "Wait, you just said that Sheara made it flop."  Now he was even more lost.  This conversation seemed to go in circles.  
  
    "She helped.  Not out of spite or any stupid thing mind you, but out of stupid fucking good will and professionalism."  
  
    "Oookay.  Run that all past me one more time."   
  
    Cid glared at him.  "Again?  Fine, numbskull, the original AVALANCHE tried to sabotage the rocket launch and got their asses kicked, but did manage to mess some shit up.  Looked like the launch might get canceled.  The repair team worked their asses off to try and get it ready, and come next morning things looked good.  But then that broad gets it in her head to check the damn oxygen tanks.  Turns out fucking terrorists had messed with 'em.  Now, launch time's comin' up fast, and Sheara's still down there going over things.  Damn it, I could have made it without that fucking extra tank, but shit no, she won't budge.  I told the damn broad to leave it and get the hell out of there.  Does she?  Hell no!"  He cut the air with his hand.  "Says to take off and burn her to a fucking crisp.  Of course I couldn't do that though, so in the end the whole thing fell flat.  Now ya know."  
      
    From listening to Cid's stories and from what he'd seen the man do, Zack decided that despite his roughness and constant swearing, Cid was actually a really nice guy.  It was comforting to know, after being trapped in that lab for over a year and a half, that there were still some decent people in the world.    
  
    "Finally!" Cid said, pointing ahead.  A small, trim house and large barn were visible in the distance.  Zack sighed happily.  His feet really were killing him.  First thing he was going to do when they finally reached the farm was ask whether they could spare a pair of boots.  
  
 **Day Five continued**  
      
    They walked down the rutted dirt road to the little house, passing large vegetable plots and an orchard on the way.  Cid waved at the man standing on the porch, watching them approach.  
  
    "Hey, nice day, ain't it?"  Cid called out.  
  
    "Yep.  Something I can do for you boys?" the rancher replied, eying them warily.   
  
    While Cid was back in his own clothes now, Cloud and Zack were still in the cannibalized trooper uniforms.  Spike looked regulation enough, but Zack was wearing the biggest set they had available and they were still small on him.  Between his strange appearance, the weapons they all carried, and the fact that Shinra troops rarely traveled by foot, he wasn't surprised that the rancher was suspicious of them.  
  
    Before Cid could reply, though, Zack shouted out, "Shoes!  I need new shoes. You would not believe how much my feet hurt from walking all over the place in these things; they are way too small."  He paused for a heartbeat before continuing, "And if I'm not pushing my luck, a shower would be heaven.  And a meal.  A warm, home cooked meal.  Gaia, I can't even remember the last time I had one."    
  
    Cid, Cloud, and the rancher all just stared at the man for several moments, until the rancher let out a bark of laughter.  "I'ah can't turn you away after a performance like that without a guilty conscience and a burnin' curiosity.  Come on in, and we'll talk.”   
  
    While the boys showered, Cid asked a few discreet questions to get a feel for the farmer’s opinion of Shinra so he’d know what sort of lie to tell.  The man was pretty indifferent towards the Company, so Cid began to spin a tale about being attacked by a dragon while crossing the Nibel Mountains.  A Cure materia had taken care of the physical wounds, but the boy’s clothes had been thoroughly scorched.  After wandering around in burnt rags for a day or so, they’d found a downed Shinra helicopter.  Scavenging around in it had produced some clothes and rations.  But after a few days of MREs and shoes that didn’t fit, the rag tag group had been pretty desperate for some home comforts.  When they’d seen the farm in the distance they’d made a bee line for it.      
    Once the boys were out of the shower, dressed in ranch hand-me-downs, and sitting around the kitchen table eating the skillet fried eggs, potatoes and peppers, they quickly caught on to the story and elaborated where they could.  Zack in particular had the gift of gab, and described their travails with a tragicomic air.  Toward the end of the meal Cid talked to the farmer about letting them borrow the rusty truck parked beside the house.  He told the man the truth about wanting to see the rocket going up and that they’d bring it back after the event.  The farmer hemmed and hawed, saying that he might need to go into town himself in a few days.  Again, it was thanks to Zack’s talent of cheerful chatter that they managed to get an OK to borrow the truck.  Cid was feeling very pleased with their luck… until they were hit with the bill.  
  
    "I don't mind doing it,”  Zack called up from the pit he and Cloud were currently digging, the basis for a new well.  Already the rim of the hole was five feet above their heads.  "Jordan's a nice guy.  And, honestly, the exercise feels good."  
  
    "Bucket's full," Cloud said, tugging on the rope.  
  
    Cid grumbled something uncomplimentary about stupid soft-hearted idiots getting in the fucking way of saving the damn world as he hauled on the pulley, bringing the bucket up and dumping the dirt before sending it back down to the diggers.  
  
    "Besides, it's a lot faster and easier for Cloud and I to dig the well than it would be for Jordan to do it himself," Zack added.  
  
    Four and a half hours later, Cid was finally behind the wheel of the borrowed truck on his way back to where they'd left Vincent. Pulling to a stop next to Jenova's tank, Cid slid out of the driver's seat only to be greeted by the gunman's glaring red eyes, eerier even than usual in the evening gloom.  
  
    "That took you longer than expected." The hidden question of whether there had been any trouble went unspoken.  
  
    "Yeah well, we had to dig a fucking well in trade for this."  Cid banged on the rusting hood before going over to inspect the tank.  Behind him, Zack grinned cheerfully as he and Cloud clambered out of the truck's narrow back seat.  "Got plenty a' straw laid down in the truck's bed," Cid continued, "so we shouldn't be too worried about this bitch's tank busting open.  Still gonna need to be careful loading the damn thing in."  
  
    The curved glass surface was tricky to grip, but between the four of them, they got the tank secured in the truck bed and covered with a canvas tarp.  After a quick discussion with Vincent about ditching the chopper at sea, they were ready to go.  
  
    "Well if ya don't drown out there, we'll meet ya in Rocket Town.  Boys, let's load up."  
  
 **Day Six**  
  
    They pulled into Rocket Town late the next day.  It had taken them a while to find a secure place to park where it wasn’t likely that anyone would find Jenova.  With the number of burnt bodies to identify, it wasn't likely that anyone in Shinra would know yet that Cloud and Zack had escaped the mansion, but Cid preferred to err on the side of caution.  With that in mind, he headed for the inn while the other two kept to the shadows.  The inn’s common room, congenially crowded during Cid’s last visit,  was now jam-packed and noisy enough to split eardrums.  Cid fought his way to the counter and flagged down the owner.  The rates had jumped dramatically, but Cid grit his teeth and dumped nearly all their remaining gil into the innkeeper’s hands, and got the last of the private rooms.  
  
     He purchased some bread and cheese, cheap but filling food, and headed up to the room.  Once inside, he dumped the food on the table,before going over to the window and opening it.  A cool evening breeze blew through the checkered curtains.   He hadn't even made it back to the table to sit down when a cheerful voice came from the just opened window.  
  
    "You got us food already?!  You, man, are the best."   
  
    "Shut up, and get your ass in the room."  Stupid kid was just dangling around out there where anybody could see him.  
  
    Zack laughed and jumped off the windowsill.  He’d grabbed a plate and flopped onto one of the beds by time Cloud managed to come through the window.  The kid, either still suffering the lingering effects of mako exposure or unused yet to his newly-enhanced strength, fumbled the landing on the sill and spilled into the room in a heap.  Zack laughed aloud.  Cloud sent him a dark, disgruntled glare.  
  
     "Sorry, Spike,” Zack amended.  "You’re just not used to it yet, that’s all.  Grace will come with practice."  
  
    "Like you know the meaning of the word,” the blonde muttered.  
  
    "Hey!"  Zack squawked indignantly.  
  
    "Porcupine's got a point,” Cid mused.  
  
    "Porcupine?!"  Zack and Cloud asked in unison, each looking dismayed.  Both started in on an immediate defense of their hairstyles; Cloud protested that his just stuck up like that no matter what he did to it, and Zack yammered on about looking cool and attracting girls.  
  
    Cid ignored them and continued.  "We'll be fighting AVALANCHE in a few days, and ya'll need your damn feet under ya.  Tomorrow I'll go see if any shop has a decent blade for ya.  Zack, you can take him somewhere way the fuck out on the godforsaken prairie tomorrow and see if you can get some of that damn grace you were talking about knocked into both your thick skulls."  
      
 **Day Seven**  
  
    Cid pulled the canvas flap back down, securing it with a solid knot to the truck's rim.  It looked like no fucker had bothered the bitch last night.  Once he was away from the straw-covered truck bed, he pulled out the cigarette that had been resting behind his ear.  Where the hell could he get some damn weapon for Cloud bigger than a kitchen knife?  After what felt like forever wandering from fucking shop to shop, Cid figured he was gonna have to face the truth that there wasn't a damn fucking sword in Rocket Town.  Sitting down on one of the cheap plastic benches that had been placed to watch the launch, Cid chewed on the butt of his latest cigarette.  What the hell now?  Kid needed to be armed.  
  
    "Cid, right?  Good to see you back in one piece."  
  
    "Huh?"  Cid turned looking over his shoulder.  "Damn Rory, ya old rascal, what the fuck ya been up to?" he greeted, standing to shake the man’s hand.  
  
    "Not much.  Watching them work on the rocket, wonderin' what you've been up to."  Rory came and sat next to him before muttering in conspiratorial tones, "Get the kid out?"  
  
    "Yeah, along with another guy.  Both of em’ are out getting into shape after being trapped so long.”  He gave Rory a contemplative look.  "Know where I could get a sword?"  
  
    "What, my baby not good enough for ya, after all?” Rory asked with pretend outrage.  
  
    "Hell no!  She’s a beauty, best partner a guy could have.  Sword’s for the kid.  He's gonna need something to defend himself with.  Got some talent with a blade, but fucking good talent will do him without a decent weapon.  I already checked the shops and all they got are damn pocket knives."   
  
    "That so?  Well, you bring him by for dinner.  Mariè’s makin’ a big pot of chili.  If he's a decent lad, and if’n it’s okay with Marie, I'll give him Yoshiyuki.  It's a blade my son brought back from the war.  He was a trooper for Shinra, got killed in action four years ago.”  Rory was quiet for a minute, before sighing deeply.  “I miss him still.  I was proud of him, still am, but.…  Well, he wouldn’t mind his souvenir goin’ fer a good cause.”  
  
    Cid nodded solemnly, and handed Rory a cigarette.  “You’re a good man, Rory, a damn good man."  
  
    It was well past lunch and heading on for dinner time when the two men went their ways, with a promise to meet up at Rory's place in an hour or so.  He headed for the rented room and hoped the others were back.  He didn't feel like traipsing all over the damn place looking for the numbskulls.  Fumbling with the key, he could just barely make out the sound of voices on the other side.  Shoving the door open, ignoring its efforts to stick, he was soon greeted by three familiar faces.   
  
    "Back already, huh?  Any problems we should know about?" he asked the new arrival.  
  
    Vincent was standing by the window, watching the street below.  ”No,” was his monosyllabic response.  
  
    "Good." He turned his attention to the other occupants of the room. "You boys look like you had a good work out, and fucking smell like it too.  Get your damn asses in the shower, we got invited over for chili,” he ordered.  
  
    “Dinner?  Is that smart?  I mean, we're fugitives and all, so wouldn't it be better if we just lie low?” Zack asked, concerned.  
  
    "Rory's a damn good friend.  He gave me Venus Gospel and chances are he’ll give Spiky here a damn decent blade.  'Sides, I promised him I'd introduce you two."  
  
    "Introduce us?” Cloud looked alarmed.  “Why?"  
  
    "Your damned story’s how I got him to give me Venus Gospel this time round, and more’n that, he's a fucking good person who's worried about’cha.  Now quit lollygagging and get in the damn shower."  
  
    He concluded by turning to Vincent. "Ya don't have to come, cause they ain’t expecting ya.  But if ya could keep an eye on Jenova, I think we could all rest a bit easier."  
  
    Vincent didn't even bother to nod before turning and leaving through the open window.  I damn well hope no one’s paying much attention to this window, Cid thought.  It wasn't long ’til Zack and Cloud were ready to go, both dressed in the jeans and t-shirts they had gotten from Jordan at the ranch.    
  
    "Here, I picked these up for ya guys in town.  Pull the brims low and ya should be able to hide your eyes."  Cid told them, handing over a pair of wide-brimmed hats.  
  
    "Stetsons, really?"  Zack tried to hold back laughter while Cloud gave his hat a dubious look.  Cid flipped them off.  
  
    "Fine, don't wear them.  If you get caught, it's not my fucking fault."  Ungrateful idiots.  He was just trying to help.  
  
    Cid stomped his way out of the room and down the stairs, only comin' to a stop once he was in the alley outside.  While waiting for the others to show he lit up, looking at the night sky and musing.  He wondered how his future was doing, or if it even existed at all anymore.  He was joined shortly by what looked like a pair of young men come into town from one of the surrounding ranches.  Zack stopped beside him, tipping up the brim of his hat cheekily.  “Where we headed, chief?"    
  
    "This way,” Cid answered, heading down the alley.  “Rory's house ain't far.  And keep yer head down!”    
  
    The streets of Rocket Town were crowded.  Visitors milled around, buzzing with excitement.  It looked like a lot of them were renting rooms from the locals.  Their hosts sat on their porches, holding court.  The talk was all about the space project, the launch, history in the making.  Above it all towered the rocket, glowing like a dream in the golden evening light.  It made Cid’s chest hurt to look at it.  He put his eyes firmly on the ground, and shouldered anyone foolish enough to be in his way roughly aside.  Zack and Cloud stuck close behind him.  He heard a gasp from one of them, and Cloud grabbed his shoulder, hurrying him into a cross street.  
  
    Cid let himself be pushed for a moment, but then shrugged out of the younger man’s grip.  To no fuckin’ point, because Zack simply grabbed the other shoulder and shoved him into the gap between two houses, before following himself.  Cloud darted in after them.  
  
    “What in the hell?” Cid ground out.  Cloud and Zack both made violent shushing noises, and Zack squeezed his shoulder painfully.  Patience had never been Cid’s strongest suit, but he managed to bite his tongue and keep still.  His hand crept to the shaft of Venus Gospel, just in case.  After a minute, Cloud stepped back into the street, and Zack let Cid go.  He rubbed his shoulder and looked balefully at the SOLDIER, but both the escapees were looking up the street.  Cid followed their gaze.  A trio of Shinra troopers, their helmets slung carelessly over their shoulders or tucked into their elbows, were walking away, backs turned.  Cid recognized the pair walking in front of the troopers - scientists from the rocket project.  He couldn’t remember their names, but they’d been part of the propulsion lab.  With a last flash of white from the left scientist’s lab coat, the crowd closed around them and hid them from view.  
  
    Cid looked at the tense stillness of his two companions, and decided that it wouldn’t be much reassurance to tell them that the worst those two lab-coats had ever done was mislabel a few canisters of fuel.  Muscles were jumping nervously in Zack’s jaw, and that ghastly green pallor had returned to Cloud’s face.  Cid led the rest of the way to Rory’s house without comment. Once there, he stopped on the porch.  He turned and gave the boys a once-over.  Cloud still looked sorta sick, shrunk in on himself.  Zack looked pretty much okay, with maybe a few lingering shadows ‘round the eyes.  Cid wasn’t much for considering the feelings of others, but he knew the lingering effects of trauma.  “You boys gonna be okay?  We can just beg off if ya need.”  
  
    They both looked at him, slightly startled, before exchanging glances.  Cloud’s mouth twitched, a sort of miniaturized shrug.  Zack looked back at Cid and smiled sunnily.  “We were told there would be chili.” Cid nodded and gave the front door a solid knock, stepping back as Mariè opened it with a cheery smile, beckoning them inside.  
  
    "Evening, Mariè.  Thanks for havin’ the boys and me over,” Cid greeted as the trio entered the small house.    
  
    “It’s our pleasure, Cid.  From what Rory’s told me, I’m just glad you and these fine young men here are all right,” she answered.  
  
    “Thank you, ma’am, though I’m sure we’ll feel even better after we eat some of your cooking.”  Zack set his hat on the coat rack and smiled flirtatiously.  “The place smells wonderful.  Chili, right?”  
  
    “That’s right, you scoundrel,” she laughed delightedly.  “Come sit down and dinner will be on the table shortly.”  
  
    She guided them to their spots at the table.  Cloud and Zack sat on one side, with Cid across from them, and there were chairs for Rory and Marié at the ends.  The table had already been set and bowls of cheese, chives, onions, sour cream and honey butter were set out.  Rory came out from the kitchen carrying a large, steaming pot of dark chili.  Marié followed with a pan full of corn bread.  Introductions were made as Rory dished out the supper.  Cid inspected the food in his bowl admiringly before tasting it.  There were three types of beans, loads of roasted peppers, and ground meat of some sort.  He garnished his bowl with a little bit of every topping, and slathered honey butter on the pieces of corn bread Marié passed out.  
  
    “Man, this is great!”  Zack exclaimed, digging into his food with gusto.  Cloud, next to him, nodded in agreement, his mouth too full to talk.  
  
    “Wanna know what makes it so good?” Rory asked with pride and satisfaction.  “Dark heavy beer. That’s the real trick to good chili.”  
  
    “What’s the meat?” Zack questioned. “My mom always made hers with catfish.”  
  
    “Catfish?” Cloud gave Zack a dubious look.  
  
    “Don’t dis it till you try it.”  
  
    “Well, I don’t know what to say about fish chili, but this batch was made with elk.  You must be from the southeast, aintcha?”  Rory asked.  
  
    “Yeah, Gongaga. Home, swampy home.” Zack laughed.  
  
    “How about you, dear?”  Marie smiled gently at Cloud.  “Where are you from?”    
  
    Cloud ducked his head, not meeting her eyes.  His shoulders hunched, and he muttered, “Nibelheim”.  
  
    Marie blinked at the unhappy reaction, her smile melting into distressed concern.  She made a small movement, her hand reaching out to her guest in apology.  Before she could say anything, Zack grabbed Cloud’s shoulder and shook it gently.  “Hey, remember what I said when we first meet?  We country boys gotta stick together.  I know not everything is fine now, but we’ll make it through, you’ll see.”   
  
    “I heard from Cid that you lost your home and family.  And, well, I have ta agree with Zack.  It doesn’t sound like much good, but time does sooth most hurts.”  Rory exchanged a sorrowful look with Marié.  “Not completely, but enough.  That’s the reason I had you boys over.”  Rory got up and exited the room, but it wasn’t long before he was back, holding a long-hafted katana.  
  
    “This is Yoshiyuki.  My son brought her back from the war.”  He rubbed the blade affectionately.  Marie stood abruptly and went to the fireplace, looking sadly at the photos on the mantlepiece.  “We miss our boy… but we’ve accepted it.  I got some other items of his that he’d collected over the years, so here.”  He handed the blade to Cloud, who stood to accept the gift.  “You take this, and may it come in handy for you.”  
  
    The serious mood lasted a while afterwards, but it couldn’t hold out against such good food.  The night wore on with good cheer before the group parted with a fairly light hearted good-bye.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is fully written, the last third is just waiting to be edited.


	3. part 3

**Day Eight**

      Cid glared at the inn's phone in front of him like it was responsible for all his problems. Really, all he had to do was pick up the damn handset and make a call. Some damn phone call that would make him sound like some damn fucking loony, that is. How the hell was he supposed to tell Barret not to trust Shinra and to keep an eye out for AVALANCHE without sounding like some blithering bandersnatch? “Hello, I’m your friend from the future, and I’m here to tell you your town will be wiped off the map soon?”

     He sighed. Barret had to be warned, and even if he didn’t believe Cid, it might make him more cautious of Shinra. He picked up the handset and stabbed in the numbers. Before the phone could even ring, a pale hand plucked the phone from his grasp and set it abruptly back in its cradle.

    Cid glowered, outraged. “What the hell, Vincent?!” Despite his anger, he kept his voice down. The phone was in a corner of the inn’s common room, and though a wooden wall provided some poor inkling of privacy, it was a fuckin’ public spot for an argument.

     Vincent was quiet too. “You should not use phones. Shinra controls the communications grid.”

     Cid processed that. “Crap. You mean those assholes listen to phone calls?”

     Vincent shrugged eloquently.

     Cid swore again, several times. “Well then, what in Hel should I do? Write him a damned letter?”

    “That may be inadvisable. Shinra now runs the courier service, correct?”

    “Yeah… but there’s still private couriers, too. Shinra’s service doesn’t bother with the little towns more’n every couple a’ months. A letter, huh? I think I can make that work.”

     Cid returned to the room. Zack and Cloud were out training again, and Vincent, warning delivered just in time, had probably gone back to watching the truck. Cid dragged the wooden table closer to the window so he’d have plenty of light. He had a pen filched from beside the phone, and a pad of paper borrowed from the innkeeper. He wrote Barret in the guise of a history buff, saying that he’d discovered the remains of an ancient Cetran airship, and while investigating, had discovered an oilfield at the same location. In return for the coordinates, Cid wanted help digging out the airship. The field, which Barret had discovered in Cid’s future, was a good fifty miles from where Shinra was building the Corel reactor, and if this worked, a good portion of Corel’s residents would temporarily move to the new location. The coal miners would switch over to drilling for oil, something that was less dangerous than mining, and with the size of the oil fields, they’d be able to compete against Shinra. This advice would put a big ol’ target on Barret’s back, but Cid figured that with the disruption caused by Hojo’s death and the destruction of the Nibelheim lab, plus the drama that was bound to be stirred up here at the launch, Shinra would have its hands full for a while. Once the launch was over, Cid would head over to Corel and see what help he could provide.

     He read the letter over to himself. It seemed pretty damn convincing to him. He had high hopes for Barret following through on it. Next, he wrote a letter to Nanaki, over in Cosmo Canyon, warning the cat to be cautious of Shinra. Cid’d already made sure Hojo died in the fire, and, damn, but he would have liked to stay and watch the rat-turd bastard burn, but Hojo wasn’t Shinra’s only mad scientist. Red might still be a target. With luck, this warning would help his friend stay safe. The imminent disasters now taken care of, he could focus his attention on the launch and AVALANCHE.

**Fourth Day of Freedom**

     Zack closed his eyes and turned his face up to the sun, feeling its warmth. He could hear the grass whispering around him, the rustling of Cloud’s clothing as he finished his exercises, even the scurrying of small animals, busy with their ground-level lives. He could smell the mellow scent of baking earth, and the breeze carried the tang of oil from Rocket Town. He bent and plucked a grass blade, popping the end of it in his mouth to chew.

     All his senses were back in working order again, better than they had been before the lab, even. But every morning, when he woke up, he dreaded finding himself back in Nibelheim, the last few days just a pleasant hallucination. He chomped down hard on the grass stem. This is real, he told himself. And whether it was or not, it was simply better to believe that.

     Zack turned to Cloud. The two of them had already run through a routine of stretches and exercises back at the inn, almost just for the joy of being able to move around again. Out here, away from the increasing crowds, they could let loose and really see what they were capable of. Yesterday they’d spent in footraces, hand to hand sparring and going through katas, taking turns with the Buster Sword. Today, Cloud would be working with the new katana Rory had given him. The blade was a lot smaller and lighter than what Zack was used to wielding, so teaching Cloud how to use it was going to be interesting.

     “Well, let’s get this show on the road. Hey, Cloud.” He waited for his friend to approach before continuing. “Ever use a katana before?” Cloud shook his head. “Alright. Well, they’re one sided, so in that respect they’re more like the buster sword than the broadswords you used in the past. But there’s a pretty big difference which I know you’ve noticed, so moving right along. The Buster is all about strength. Yoshiyuki needs to be wielded with finesse. Katanas are meant to be wielded with two hands. You can fight with only one, but you lose the grace.” Even as he said it, he thought of Sephiroth, holding Masamune one-handed, like it was nothing. From the look on Cloud’s face, he’d had the same thought. “So, fighting stance,” Zack ordered, too brisk, trying to move on quickly.

     Cloud dropped down into a deep stance, lowering his center of gravity. However, as soon as he was down, he grimaced and came up just a little. The weight of the blade controlled how deep the stance needed to be. Used to practicing with the Buster, the first stance had been overkill for a light blade like Yoshiyuki. He gripped the hilt in the right way, though. It wasn’t too different from a buster’s hilt, and Cloud always had been a quick study.

     “All right, so, again, finesse. Push and pull. Push with one hand, pull with the other. See how the blade kinda dances? The Buster can do that too, it’s just so big, it doesn’t look the same. Buster-style swords are meant more for hack and slash. This one, I don’t know… more of a slice and slash, I guess.”

     Zack stood back and watched as Cloud got himself familiarized with the blade before instructing him to run through the same kata they’d been practicing yesterday. They continued like that for some time, Cloud running through different katas with Zack doing squats, offering helpful tips and making corrections. Cloud’s balance was still a little off, striking too fast or too hard, but overall, he was getting better.

     Cloud’s newly enhanced strength was causing the kid all sorts of problems. When they’d been digging the well, Zack had been worried Cloud might break the shovel, seeing the wood begin to splinter under a too firm grip. Or he’d put too much power behind it, and the shovel would sink into the ground, like a hot knife through butter, causing Cloud to lose his balance. Then Cloud would overcompensate, and the shovel would slip in too weak a grip, or he’d be overly cautious and get barely any dirt on the blade.

     It was because of this see-sawing in Cloud’s control that Zack didn’t feel comfortable sparring against him with live metal. He had plenty of bruises from the hand-to-hand practice yesterday. Then again, putting all the blame for his bruising on Cloud was a little unfair. There was a slight increase to Zack’s own abilities, but his muscles still felt sluggish, and his reaction time was still under par. They’d been in the tanks or on the table for almost one and a half years, with no chance of moving around and stretching, so he was rather out of shape.

     “Zack?” Cloud’s voice was hoarse, and he was prone to long pauses while speaking, a lingering remnant of the mako poisoning. Zack cursed Hojo’s twisted soul. The man was nothing more than a charred corpse rotting at the bottom of a collapsed staircase, and even that was too good for him. He stood from a squat and tilted his head inquiringly. “Yeah, what’s up?”

     “Last night… at dinner. Rory and Marie, they…. “ Cloud broke off and looked away, to the empty horizon. “They didn’t know that Nibelheim had burned… and Cid said that Shinra had rebuilt it… and filled it with actors… and… well… why? Why would they do that?” The plea was angry, anguished, and desperate. The worst bit was, there was no good answer.

     Shinra had bombed Banora into a hole in the ground. They hadn’t bothered to rebuild it the way they had with Nibelheim, and Banora had been a lot less isolated than Cloud’s hometown. There was a common thread in what had happened to both towns - high profile SOLDIER goes nuts, kills everybody - but no link at all in Shinra’s responses. The biggest difference in the situations that Zack could think of was the level of media attention given to Sephiroth, SOLDIER’s poster boy. Everything related to Genesis’s attacks had been spun and respun by Shinra’s PR and legal departments. According to the press releases, Banora’s destruction had been caused by a terrorist attack. No mention of Genesis at all, and not enough people had cared to dig deeper to make the company fret. In Sephiroth’s case, the guy had barely been able to leave HQ without a news van rolling up. Sephiroth’s fan club was so creepily attentive, they knew what type of shampoo he used.

     Shinra was good at cover stories. Zack didn’t know what official “explanation” had ever been given for Sephiroth’s disappearance, but apparently the company had decided that, for Nibelheim, the best explanation was not having to give an explanation at all. If the media or the General’s fans had ever gone there to investigate, they either hadn’t found anything, or Shinra had squashed their findings. And what the hell kinda answer was that to give Cloud? Sorry, but the company we both idolized for years cares more about preserving its public image than ever admitting its errors? Zack had known that for a long while now, deep in his gut, but for Cloud….

    It was just barely possible that Hojo had tortured them for his own ends, and that Shinra hadn’t know what was really going on. They’d talked about that occasionally in the lab, in the early days, when it was still possible to carry on longer conversations. It was desperate even then, a forlorn hope that somebody would come find them, get them out. Kunsel, Cissnei, somebody. It had been a distraction for Zack, something to talk about to get their minds off things. After a while, when it got harder to talk, he’d given up hope on any outside source of deliverance. Cloud, though, had probably kept hoping it, just a little, little bit. The younger man was self-reliant, sure, but he believed in things. From his own experience, Zack knew it took a lot to take the shine off the fantasy image of SOLDIER and Shinra that the company marketed.

    When Cid had told them what had happened in his own timeline, he’d also removed any lingering doubts about Shinra’s approval of Hojo’s projects. All the same, Rory and Marie’s ignorance of what happened in Nibelheim was like a punch to the gut, given how large it loomed in Zack’s memories. It had to be ten times worse for Cloud.

     “Sorry. I don’t know,” he sighed. The skin around Cloud’s eyes was looking greenish, and he was still staring unhappily at the horizon. Zack turned away, scratching his head. “Probably because it was the General that-,” he paused. Burned? Slaughtered? Neither of those captured the totality of what Sephiroth had done. “The General that destroyed the town. Shinra… I guess it just wanted to avoid any possible bad press.” Cloud frowned, anger drawing his brows together. “I mean, even the launch is a publicity stunt so, umm…. Yeah.” Zack finished lamely.

     An awkward silence settled between them. Cloud’s brows furled in thought as he turned back to the katas, while Zack pulled the Buster off his back, falling into his own routine. They continued like that for some time before Cloud spoke up again.

     “What do you plan to do after all this, Zack?”

     What did he plan? Nothing really. He hadn’t thought that far in advance yet. Go back to Gongaga to see his parents, then Midgar to see Aerith, and while he was there, try to find Tifa and make sure she was okay, but past that? Nothing. “Haven’t really thought about it. How ‘bout you, any plans?”

     “No, no plans.”

     “Hmm, looks like we’ll have to come up with something then.”

     “We?”

     “Huh? Well… Yeah, we’re friends, aren’t we? We’ll stick together.”

     Cloud lowered the katana, smiling and shyly delighted. Zack startled, then smiled back, as huge as he could manage. That was the first smile that had reached Cloud’s eyes in a long, long time.

     “Yeah…. Friends.”

**Day Nine**

     It was the noise that woke Cid. A dull roar, like the sea. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. The room was dim, with pale light leaking in around the shutters. The boys were already up. He groaned as he swung his legs out of bed and stood. Various joints and muscles protested, and he glared sourly at Zack, who was absentmindedly doing squats by the door. “What the hell’s all the noise out there?” Cid growled, scratching.

     Cloud replied. “The audience.” He opened the shutters and gestured into the street. The alley below was clogged with people. Cid noticed that there were stalls set up, hawking toy rockets and pre-packaged “astronaut food”. He grinned. He’d hated that goddamn freeze-dried, turd-tasting menu. The one and only good thing about the Space Program’s nearly permanent hiatus was he’d never been forced to actually live on that crap.

    They stayed inside that morning. This close to the launch, Shinra was on full alert. The last fucking thing they needed was for Cloud to run into some trooper he’d known from way back when, or for some pickpocket to get too curious about the quality of the materia Cid was wearing. At noon, Cid slipped out to check in with Vincent, who was still keeping an eye on Jenova. As he approached their truck, he saw it wasn’t alone any more. Parked next to it was a tiny hatchback on one side, and on the other, a large canvas-covered truck like a troop transport. A man dressed in dusty green and brown with goggles hanging around his neck was leaning up against the canvas, cigarette in hand.

    Damn. Of all possible places, AVALANCHE had to park right next to them. Cid swore internally, and greeted the man. “Afternoon. Nice fuckin’ day, ain’t it.”

    The man glared at him suspiciously, before nodding back silently.

     “I like your idea. Don’t mind if I join ya, do ya?” The man turned away pointedly. Cid didn’t bother waiting for a reply. He leaned up against his own truck, took the cigarette behind his ear down and lit up. “Like I said, nice day, but too many damn people hogging up the place; inn’s fucking choked with the cushion-footed gawkers. Came out here for some damn peace and fucking quiet.”

     The man turned his head to glare exasperatedly, as if he thought that was enough to make Cid go away. The guy had nothing on Vincent’s glares and most of those had lost their effect on Cid long ago.

     Ignoring the man, he continued to ramble on. “So, ya here for No. 26’s launch? I am, along with some of my friends. Really looking forward to seeing it go up. Man, it must be fucking amazing seeing Gaia from space.” Cid grinned at the memory. “Too bad they ain’t giving any damn tours of the rocket before it goes up. Must be something, standing in the core of history. Wonder if I could sneak on for a peek.”

      By this point the guy was looking kind of twitchy. Cid figured he might as well point that out to the man.

      “What’s the matter? Ya look sorta nervy. Oh fuck, yeah, I get it. Yer planning something like that yourself, ain’t ya? Well, no worries. I won’t tell anyone, might just fuckin’ follow ya though. So how the hell do ya think you’ll get in with all the guards and media swarming all over the rocket?”

     “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the man all but growled.

     Cid gave the man a feral grin. “Sure you don’t, Mr. AVALANCHE.”

     “What the!? Shit!” The guy whirled to face him fully and pulled a small hand gun from his jacket pocket. There was a faint click, and Cid’s grin grew. Damn, back-up was a fucking nice thing to have. The man was frozen in place, the barrel of Vincent’s gun pressed to the back of his head. Slowly, the man raised his hands, the pistol falling to the ground. Vincent kicked it towards Cid, who scooped it up.

     “Ya know,” Cid said conversationally, examining the gun, “you SOBs should really think about getting a new uniform.” His tone sobered. “So how do you miserable shitbags plan to get into the rocket?” That was one thing he had never been able to figure out, and it was the one thing stopping him from punching Jenova’s ticket off the Planet.

     The man sneered silently. Vincent moved forward, sliding the gun to the man’s temple, just above the eye. The man snarled. “Go ahead and kill me, you Shinra bastard. I won’t tell you bloodsuckers anything.”

     “Nitwit,” Cid sighed. “Did I say I was from fucking Shinra? Do I look like a fucking Turk? Stop being so damn dramatic, ya stupid bagrisk, and listen up. My friends and I need to put something on the rocket. Now I know you fuckers are gonna sneak on to mess things up so it fails, but unfortunately for you, I need the damn thing up in space. So you got a choice: tell me how to get on now, or I’ll just have ta try following your dumb friends on board, and probably fuck up, and bring Shinra’s Gaia-damned wrath down on everybody involved.”

     “Well, I see an easy way around that. We’ll just kill you now, and save Shinra the trouble.” A woman’s voice slid into the conversation.

     Well, crap. A young woman, a man in a bandana and three other AVALANCHE operatives stood across from them. Shit, shit, double shit.

     “Look, first fucking shot fired here and we’re all screwed. Shinra will come running like a bunch of corpse crawlers over a logarithm carcass. So, maybe we can talk this out. I need on the rocket; you fucks want on the rocket. Let’s see if we can cut a deal and help each other,” Cid bargained.

     “Why do you want to get on?” the lady questioned.

     “When that rocket goes up, the only thing coming back down is the pilot. That’s all you need to know.”

     The woman was silent for a moment, mulling it over. “You intend to get rid of something.” One of the terrorists behind her muttered, “Or commit the world’s strangest suicide.”

     “And what the fuck do you intend to do?” Cid asked.

     “That is none of your business.”

     “If it’s got anything to do with the damn launch, it is my ruttin’ fucking business.”

     “Why blast something into space when you could just destroy it?”

     “That’s none of your damn business… though,” Cid chuckled, “when those damn over-stuffed ahrimans at Shinra find out, they’ll be shitting like a malboro with food poisoning. Damn, they might already, after the shit I’ve pulled this week.”

     By this point Cid was full out laughing, making the members of AVALANCHE give him odd looks, but he didn’t care. Hojo was dead and the lab destroyed. With Jenova missing, Shinra’s bigwigs were probably running themselves in circles. If they ever found out Jenova had been on the rocket, ha! He’d want to see their faces if they ever did. Calming down, Cid looked at his audience thoughtfully. Best not to count his chocobos until they hatched. “As long as you fuckers don’t get in my way, I’ll ignore ya, since you jackasses don’t seem too keen on helpin’ me.”

     “The same warning goes to you and your friend. Now, release Geno.”

     After a tense moment Vincent lowered his gun and moved to stand beside Cid. The members of AVALANCHE loaded into their vehicle, one or another keeping keen eyes on Cid and Vincent until the truck roared to life and drove away. Cid flipped them off grumpily. “Well, that could have gone better.” Still, they were alive, no small thing when dealing with an organization as unhinged as AVALANCHE, and Shinra wasn’t breathing down their necks, either.

     “We should move the truck.”

     “Yeah. You’re damned right, before they come sniffing back round. But where the hell to?”

     “In plain sight.”

     “And what the fuck makes you think that’s a bright move?” Cid turned to the gunman, slack-jawed in disbelief at such a stupid suggestion. Vincent gave him a slightly disdainful glance.

     “Some large tour buses arrived earlier. They are far enough away from the launch site that Shinra has minimal security in the area. Many of the bus’s passengers are using the vehicles as sleeping quarters, and AVALANCHE will stay clear of an area where so many people are coming and going.” For a quiet man, when Vincent got going he sure as hell could talk a lot.

     Cid nodded. “Makes sense. I’ll drive over, drop ya off, and you stay hidden with the truck while I fucking rack my brain to figure out how to get this damn bitch on the blasted rocket.” Yeah, that was going to be a lot of fucking fun.

**Day Ten**

     Even after thinking for a whole day, Cid still had no feasible plan to get Jenova onto No. 26, and it made his disposition, already a long way from naturally sunny, exceedingly unpleasant. He was stressed out and well past grumpy, so when Zack suggested he come spar with them, Cid nearly chewed his head off. After the explosion, Cloud suggested, quietly, that coming out and hitting stuff might be good for him, and Cid, panting, had agreed. The three of them were making their way in the just-barely-dawn light past the house Cid’s younger counterpart lived in when Cid spotted the AVALANCHE operative he had threatened yesterday sneaking over the fence.

     “That son of a bitch,” he cursed. “Come on, that asswipe is gonna try to steal the Tiny Bronco.”

     Without waiting for his companions he chased after the man. Why was the shit trying to steal it now? Last time, the fucks had tried to steal it after the airshow rehearsal, not before.

     “Wait! What’s the Tiny Bronco?” Zack asked, catching up in moments.

     “It’s the best damn small plane in the whole fucking world,” he shot back.

     Cutting round the corner of the house he saw the man sneaking up to his plane! Er… his younger self’s plane. Even if it wasn’t technically his, it was still his, and how dare that fucker mess with it.

     “Stop it right there, you miserable gibber-faced parasite!” he bellowed.

     The man whirled, drawing a gun. In the same heartbeat, Cid leveled Venus Gospel at him, and the two swordsmen flanked the intruder. Snarling, Cid informed the out-numbered man, “Don’t even try it, you fish-eyed ass goblin, you’re fucking out classed.”

     “You lying bastard. You said you wouldn’t get in our way.” The AVALANCHE member hissed back.

     “Yeah, as long as your useless ass didn’t get in mine, and guess what. It just fucking did.”

      The man opened fire then, but Cid had fought against people with far better aim than this fucking nitwit. Rushing forward, he bought his spear up under the man’s hands, so he’d either have to drop his gun or lose an arm. Wisely, the man chose to drop his gun. Less wisely, as he stumbled backwards he pulled out a grenade from under his jacket. He pulled the pin and lobbed it at them. Zack stepped forward and used the broad side of the buster sword as a bat, slamming the grenade out to explode over the prairie.

     While Zack went for the grenade, Cloud had gone for a slash at the man’s outstretched arm, severing it from his body. Howling in pain, the terrorist fell to the ground cradling the stump of his right arm.

     “You’ve lost already,” the man cried. “The rocket will fail, the president will die and Shinra will fall! I’ll go to the lifestream knowing my life was not in vain. I-” The man’s rant was cut short by Venus Gospel in his chest.

    “In a different lifetime, you’d be right. Not this time. At least not on one count,” Cid murmured as he withdrew his spear.

     “Hey!” A angry shout from the house had the three turning. A blond man in his early thirties, metal spear in one hand was running out to them.

     “What the hell is going on out here?” The man demanded. “And where the hell is the damned security?”

     Cid stepped forward. If anybody knew how to handle his younger self, it was his older self. “Sorry about the mess out here,” Cid gestured to the body slowly dissolving into the lifestream behind him. “I took the town tour yesterday and they pointed out this being your house. I’m a big fan of yours, the battle of Karura, you saved a lot of people that day with your flying. Read all about it in the paper. Damn, look at this old man ramblin’! Anyway the boys and I wanted to go for a walk before the damn crowds got up, see. I spotted this ass-wipe sneaking around back of your place. Now I’ve gotten into a few scuffles with AVALANCHE in my time, so I recognized the damn uniform. So, I follow him round and see the bastard trying to make off with the Bronco. Now, I know it’s yours, not just cause the house but cause I’ve been to a lot of air shows, recognize that beauty any where. Couldn’t just fucking stand there and do nothin’. I try to fucking talk to the guy and the fucking numbskull goes and pulls a damn gun and the rest as they fucking say is fucking history.”

     All ace pilots are prima donnas and Cid knew he’d been one of them. Strutting around like he owned the world when he knew jack-shit. Still, if you wanted something from a prima donna all you had to do was butter them up. Damned nitwits. Some folks said if they went back in time they’d give their younger selves a hug, and some said they’d punch ‘em. Cid preferred the latter.

     “That so?” the astronaut eyed the last of the green particles vanishing in the air. “Guess I’m in your debt. The Tiny Bronco’s my partner. Would have been horrible if anything happened to her.”

     “No problem. Guy had it coming to him. Folks that fucking dramatic don’t live too long.”

     After that, introductions were made and the trio was invited to tour the No. 26 rocket as thanks for stopping the theft.

     “Actually, if I could, I’d rather ask for a favor instead,” Cid said, feeling a little uncomfortable.

     “Instead of seeing the rocket?!” The young astronaut was incredulous. “That’s a stupid decision but alright, whatcha want?”

      “Well it’s the longest story you’ll ever hear, and we don’t have the time. In a nutshell, I found a damn nasty parasite that has the fucking potential to wipe all life off this Gaia-forsaken planet. I got it contained and now I need to get rid of it. Trying to destroy it without parts of it getting away is damn near impossible, so that brings me here. Can you take that fucking thing into space and ditch it there?”

      For a moment the younger Cid looked stunned, glancing back and forth at the three men in front of him.

     “No kidding’? You ain’t pulling my leg or something?” he asked.

     To Cid’s surprise Cloud spoke up, anger and pain clear in his voice.

     “It’s because of that thing my whole village is dead.”

     “A friend of mine fell to it… so did my mentor,” Zack added.

     The grief in both their words and posture was so evident that even a person who was blind and deaf would feel it.

     Scratching the back of his head the astronaut sighed. “Look, I’d like to help you and I agree that something needs to be done with a bug like that, but the launch goes up tomorrow mornin’. I wouldn’t be able to get the authorization for something like that in time. You know how bureaucracy is.”

     “Then don’t get it authorized,” Cid grinned. “I could say I’m from the Science Department, dress these two up as SOLDIER, you act as though you’ve known about us coming to… I dunno… install some last minute experiment on board. If we all act like we know our shit, no one should bother us. Audacity is a great infiltration technique, least according to my friend.”

     A hint of suspicion crept into the younger man’s expression. “You got a friend that does infiltration?”

     Cid din’t miss a beat. “Yeah, she had to sneak into some pervert’s mansion to rescue a friend. She got all dolled up, made another friend dress like a girl so she’d have some company. Got in, got what they needed, got out. Audacity worked for them. Should work for us.”

**Sixth Day of Freedom**

     They’d told Vincent the plan, and the ex-turk vanished for an hour and a half, before turning up with a pair of stolen SOLDIER 2nd Class uniforms and helmets. Zack adjusted the left shoulder guard into place, grateful that Vincent had procured a uniform that actually fit. He’d also brought along a lab coat for Cid, and a cheap instant camera lifted from a tourist. He was currently jury-rigging a badge for Cid with a hastily snapped photo while Zack, Cloud, and Cid put a new tarp on the truck, another present from Vincent. This one featured the Shinra logo on the sides.

     After the last adjustments were made, with Jenova’s tank well-wrapped and hidden by the previous canvas tarp, the group was ready. Zack drove. A newly clean-shaven Cid sat in the passenger seat, and Cloud and Vincent in the back. They pulled up to the security perimeter, and Zack rolled down the window. “Delivery for Cid Highwind,” he said confidently. The troopers glanced at each other, and one pulled out a clipboard. He ran a finger down the page, and said “No packages were expected. Do you have clearance to enter?”

     “You’re late!” Someone yelled. Zack craned out the window to see, keeping his face solemn with an effort as the younger Cid steamed red-faced across the broad dusty field. He’d hit his cue perfectly. Who knew such a blunt and foul-mouthed guy could be such a thespian? “The fucking rocket goes up tomorrow, you dung-beetle-brained clods! You were supposed to be here a week ago!” He arrived, panting, and the troopers snapped into respectful salutes.

     “Sorry, sir,” said Zack. “The Science Department’s been a little… disorganized recently.”

     “Fuck your excuses!” Cid barked. “We’re behind schedule here, and it’s your bloody fault! Get a move on!”

     “Yes, sir!” Zack saluted, waved jauntily at the the troopers, and pulled up to the far side of the rocket.

     “We’re not fucking late, it hasn’t gone up yet,” the older Cid growled, sliding out. “You two!” he snapped at a trio of nearby troopers. They looked up from the hoses they were coiling. “C’mere! Help load the experiment onto the rocket. Be careful not to jostle it! That equipment is fragile!”

     Zack, Cloud, and the troopers loaded the tank onto an extra large dolly. Maneuvering the tank into the lift and then into the rocket was difficult; it barely fit through the doorways and got stuck on the slightest protrusions. Uneasily, Zack thought that the darn thing acted as if it didn’t want to go. Eventually they managed to squeeze it into the spot Cid had found for them. They dismissed the troopers, and got to work securing the tank, which took less time than Zack expected. Both Cids were quite pleased with the finished result.

     “Well, that’s that. Good work everyone.” Zack beamed at his companions. “So,” he turned to the younger Cid, “could we still have that tour? This place is awesome.”

     The astronaut laughed before happily agreeing to show off his dream. Zack would have felt a little bad about distracting the man like that, if the distraction hadn’t made the man so happy. The last part of the plan required Vincent to sneak in and guard Jenova and the rocket from AVALANCHE or any other group that might interfere with the launch. He’d disembark after the rest of the scientists and technicians, just before ignition. The younger Cid was a nice guy but he reminded Zack of himself, back when he really was a SOLDIER 2nd Class and thought the world of Shinra. If Cid found out about Vincent and what was really under that tarp, he might not be so inclined to help.

**Day Eleven**

April 12 0003 - Launch day of Shinra’s No. 26 Rocket

     The ugly profiteering son of a bitch known as President Shinra had arrived, the air show had been fucking fantastic, and according to Vincent, AVALANCHE was down five members. What was already a good day was made even better, in Cid’s opinion, when right during the lift off, when all eyes were on the rocket, someone had blown President Shinra’s head clean off. Seems liker the terrorists had managed to get one thing accomplished. With the rocket already speeding towards space, Cid felt that he could ignore the fallout of the assasination. Maybe Shinra would blame all their recent problems on AVALANCHE. He could hope. His job here was finished.

     “Well, there she goes. Good fucking riddance.” The four men stood by the truck watching the light of the rocket dwindle as it rose into the blue aether of the atmosphere.

     "So what’re you kid’s plans now?" Cid asked while exhaling a stream of smoke.

     "I'm going to head back to Midgar,” Zack said, turning to face the others. “I promised Aerith I'd come visit her."

     "Are you suicidal or something, kid?! I told ya, yer gonna get fucking killed going to Midgar!” Was this guy nuts?

     Zack’s chin jutted defiantly. ”Yeah, but we’ve already made a lot of changes. Shinra’s got plenty to distract them, and besides we still have to do something about mako energy. Even with the president dead, they'll just keep sucking energy from the planet. Didn't you say that’s what woke the WEAPONs up?"

     "Oh for fuck’s sake. No. Fucking Jenova and Sephiroth woke up the damn WEAPONs, but because of the rutting shield on the Crater, the WEAPONs couldn’t get at ‘em, and turned their attention to the damn reactors and humanity."

     "Jenova might have woken them up, but don't you think eventually they’ll wake up because of the reactors? It’s only a matter of time. We need to do something now,” the young man countered.

     “We can't just stand here and do nothing,” Cloud added.

     "Damn fucking numbskulls! If you want to go get your asses killed, after all the work I put in savin’ ya, be my fucking guests, but leave me the hell out of it." No way in hell was he going to do all that over again.

     “Come on, Cid, we're gonna need you. You can't expect us to get this right on our own,” Zack pled.

     “You know what's going to happen. Please, you have to help.” Cid frowned, feeling tempted. How fucking weird it was hearing Cloud say please!

     "You started this,” said the gunman coolly. “You should see it to completion." Seemed like Vincent wasn’t planning on helping him out.

     "Damn it!” Cid sighed explosively, then grinned. “I’m getting too old for this, so y’all had better not give me any lip!“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Cloud seems kinda weak in personality here, but you have to remember he’s suffering from mako poisoning and isn’t using Zack’s personality to hide in. Having to deal with all the events that happened in Nibelheim means he’s not quite up to par yet. Give him time, he’ll get better. 
> 
> This is part of a series of short stories about what would happen if each party member had the chance to go back in time to change things. 
> 
> AVALANCHE’s involvement in the rocket launch is detailed in Before Crisis.

**Author's Note:**

> This was suppose to be a one-shot but I’m having a bit of writers block on day eight. I hope posting will help move the story along. Other than that, the rest of it is finished.


End file.
